


Dirty Socks

by luthien82



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:32:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luthien82/pseuds/luthien82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even hardcore SHIELD agents have their everyday, domestic moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Socks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chatona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chatona/gifts).



> Written as an apology for making her cry over "[breathe](http://archiveofourown.org/works/402998)". Thanks for looking it over, hon!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The Avengers is the property of Marvel Studios, Paramount Pictures, Joss Whedon and a whole lot of other people who are not me. No money is being made by the creation of this piece of fan work. No harm is intended, it's all in good fun.

* * *

“Would it _kill_ you to pick up your dirty socks _one time_ and actually throw them _into_ the hamper instead of next to it?”

Clint rolled his eyes heavenwards, not moving from the couch.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d question your claim to be the best marksman out there.”

“Hey!” Clint said, head popping up over the back of the couch to glare at his significant other. “No reason to get personal here.”

“Then start picking up your dirty socks, Barton!” Phil said, glaring right back, hands on his hips and one of Clint’s socks dangling from a fist.

Clint sighed, glanced at the TV one more time before giving it up as a lost cause. He stood up, walked over to Phil, ripped the sock out of his grip and threw it into the hamper. He raised an eyebrow and smirked at Phil when it landed perfectly inside.

Phil rubbed his eyebrow. “Why can’t you do that every day instead of waiting until I yell at you about it?”

Clint rolled his eyes again. “You, my dear beloved,” he said, worming his arms around Phil’s waist, “are an anal retentive asshole sometimes.” He softened the words with a small, lingering kiss against Phil’s chin.

Phil snorted, but his arms came up to circle Clint’s neck. “Thought you liked it when I’m _anal_ ,” he said with a ridiculous eyebrow wiggle.

Clint couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him. “That? Was _terrible_ , Agent Coulson. I’m surprised you ever managed to pull with lines like that.”

“Got your attention,” he said, crooked smile on his lips.

“True enough,” Clint conceded before he leaned up and pressed a kiss to Phil’s lips, slowly licking into his mouth and groaning at the familiar taste and feel of Phil, his body pressed close against Clint’s. Phil’s hand grabbed the back of his head to pull him closer and deepen the kiss.

Clint was already plotting a way back to their bedroom in his head and what he wanted to do to Phil - what he wanted to be done to himself - when Phil broke the kiss and whispered against his lips, “No sexy times until you’ve picked up all your dirty socks.”

Clint groaned, his head falling forward against Phil’s shoulder. “You did not just call it ‘sexy times’,” he lamented, but only received a chuckle.

“Pick them up and I might reward you later.”

Clint looked up, speculative gleam in his eyes. “The thing we talked about on Friday?”

“Maybe,” Phil said with that fucking poker face of his and that inscrutable smile.

Clint sighed, but took a step back. “Slave driver,” he muttered darkly before he turned to go do as he was told.

“You love me anyway,” Phil called after him.

Clint looked over his shoulder, grinning, and replied, “That’s because you have a _very_ talented tongue. _Sir_.”

Phil laughed, loud and hearty with his head thrown back. Clint smiled at the sight, knowing that he was the only man in the world to make Phil Coulson do that.

And yeah, he loved the guy, anal retentiveness included. And he knew that Phil loved him just as much.

Even his dirty socks.


End file.
